


I see by your outfit (that you are a cowboy)

by snoopypez



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoopypez/pseuds/snoopypez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boots were a gift from Stella's mom one year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I see by your outfit (that you are a cowboy)

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on livejournal in 2008

The boots were a gift from Stella's mom one year. No one really knew _why_ she had chosen them, because anyone who met Ray for longer than three seconds would realise they weren't his usual thing.

Except -- it's years later and Ray's on a case, following leads and chewing on a toothpick like always, right? And he's got his gun - safety on, thank you - in its place in his holster, tight over his shoulders, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. And Vecchio strides over, drops a file on the desk and jerks his head, says, "Come on, cowboy."

And what the hell? Ray's not even wearing the boots, he rarely does; but. Maybe he _should._

So Ray starts wearing the boots more often. No one really notices, until Vecchio notices. And yeah, Ray kinda hoped he would, but he also kinda _didn't_ , so like many times before, Ray is unsure of what he wants.

The way Vecchio notices is because Ray leans back in his chair, puts his feet up on the desktop by habit before any other way can occur to him. Vecchio does a double take - an actual, for real double take like they're in some kind of _comedy skit_ \- and coughs on his coffee. He remains strangely silent, which proves to Ray that miracles can really come true.

"New shoes?" is what he finally comes up with and Ray lifts a shoulder in a shrug. He's not about to mention Stella and he's not about to explain why he decided to wear them.

That's the end of that until it's not.

After a case, arrests made (an innocent bystander in the hospital because he was thrown through a window like the perp thought he was in some old west movie), and returning to the station, Ray's wired and not looking forward to the paperwork. At the desk he pulls his gun, checks the safety and twirls it expertly on his fingers. He sets it down and Vecchio speaks.

"You thinking of moving to Texas or something?" Ray doesn't respond simply because he can't - he's too thrown at the question, so Vecchio continues. "What's with the cowboy look, Kowalski? Those boots, the way you wear your badge--" He trails off, slipping a couple fingers under the strap of Ray's holster and sliding them up to meet the badge. He does it like it's no big deal, like he's allowed, like he's _entitled_ and instead of pissing Ray off it turns him on, _fast_.

Vecchio's still talking - "What'll you show up with next, chaps and spurs?" - but Ray barely hears it over the rush, the entirely unwelcome reaction to being touched like that, by _Vecchio_ , and does something stupid.

"What, like it's _cooler_ to have your badge _there?_ " he says and - eyes forward, class; here's the stupid part - mirrors Vecchio's actions. He puts his fingers around Vecchio's belt and tugs as he moves his hand to the badge, which is really kind of inappropriate on many levels.

So there they are, in the fucking _bullpen_ , for god's sake, Ray's hand dangerously close to Vecchio's crotch. Because see, Vecchio had dropped his own hand from Ray's holster a long time ago and is staring down at Ray's fingers. Ray can't see Vecchio's eyes very well, but he swears Vecchio's got a look to him like he's waiting to see what happens next.

Which is what Ray's apparently waiting for, too.

But suddenly they aren't waiting anymore; they're on their way towards the supply closet and Ray doesn't know which of them even made the gesture and which of them is following. He's pretty sure they aren't as subtle as they could be, though, but that doesn't matter now that they're shut in the dark and Ray can hear every breath Vecchio takes.

He's expecting to be yelled at - “ _what the hell,_ Stanley” or something. At least he thought that's what he was expecting but somehow he isn't surprised when instead, he's shoved against the door by Vecchio's hands and Vecchio's mouth. Ray opens up right away, puts his hands back on Vecchio's belt because that's a good spot for pulling a guy closer. Vecchio's badge is pressing against Ray's hip, which is hotter than it should be but not nearly as hot as it is to realise that Ray's not the only one that's hard.

And that makes Ray really get into the game, full speed ahead. He's tugging at the waist of Vecchio's slacks for a second before he gives up, fuck that, Vecchio's got the hint, and goes for his own zipper, pops the button, he's readysetgo. Vecchio edges away and watches Ray; Ray can _feel_ the eyes on him and it just makes him grin, makes him push the top of his boxers down just enough, _not_ enough. It's dark but the way Vecchio's breath hitches, Ray knows he can see.

Then Vecchio's fumbling with his own belt, pulling it open and off and the clang it makes when it hits the ground is too loud but no one's getting in with Ray's weight against the door, he'll make damn sure of that. Vecchio hesitates a second before reaching out, grabs Ray's holster straps again and drags even as he inches forward, mutters “Come on," an inch from Ray's lips.

So they're kissing again, tongues and teeth and the opposite of gentle, and it's good enough to make Ray even harder. He leans back against the wood, pitches his hips forward in a _nownownow_ demand. Vecchio shows he can get a clue after all and pushes Ray's pants and boxers down like he's in a hurry, wraps fingers around Ray's cock. And yeah, that's good, that's great, but it'd be better if Vecchio would move his hand.

Ray makes a noise in the back of his throat, all frustration and turn-on and he puts his hand over Vecchio's, _makes_ it move. He says "If you're not gonna join in..." with a smirk and strokes faster. That does it though, makes Vecchio give the slightest of growls and fumble with his pants. Not soon enough he's back and this time there's skin against skin, and then Vecchio's sliding his hand over Ray's ass and down his thigh, lifting his leg and holding it behind the knee as though Vecchio thinks he's fucking a _girl_ , like he's a little confused, but the new angle causes sparks anew when they meet thrust for thrust so Ray really doesn't _care_.

In fact, Ray's all _over_ this; he's got his hands on the back of Vecchio's neck and his mouth on the skin of Vecchio's neck and it turns out he’s a big fan of Vecchio’s neck. He's hissing the words _"faster"_ and _"yeah"_ and _"fuck, Vecchio"_ over and over and they just aren't moving enough. So he brings a hand down to both their cocks and bumps against Vecchio's hand, already there, like they had the same thought and that sends a sharp jolt of _something_ all down Ray's spine.

It's not much longer, moans replacing what few coherent words there are left, slick heat between them. Ray's not sure who comes first. Doesn't matter anyway.

They clean themselves up, shooting glances at each other when they think the other isn't looking. It's very high school, and Ray's just about to make a comment about how Vecchio must really want him if just Ray's hand near his dick set him off, when Vecchio speaks first.

"Your boots okay?"

Ray wonders what the hell that's even supposed to mean before he remembers. He turns on the closet light, blinking against the sudden brightness, looks down at his shoes. They're spotless. Vecchio nods, looking oddly satisfied in a way that has nothing to do with being freshly laid.

"Should have taken them off, but..." he shrugs and Ray is amused to see his cheeks tinged red.

"You _like_ my boots," Ray says, slow smile dawning. Vecchio glares, busies himself with straightening his tie, probably too fucked-out to think of a retort. Ray kind of feels like doing a little dance.

(Just not a line dance.)


End file.
